the
broad, flat stone in the little creek, the conversation we had had there
repeated itself again and again in my mind.

It was about half-past eleven o'clock when we had cleared this point,
and George gave the order to haul down sail.

"It's best to take to the oars now, Master Willie; we'd be a long while
at it if we tacked--Now, Ralph, pull steady--You'll be about right if
you keep her head straight for the White-Rock, Master Willie"--I was at
the helm--"ease her, ease her a bit; more to port, sir, more to
port--now steady again--now ship oars--the tide's running in pretty
fast, and will carry us in." George's commands, thus given at intervals
as we doubled the promontory and made for the Cove, alone broke silence,
until, having shipped oars, there was nothing particular for him to do,
and then all at once his tongue seemed unloosed. "Poor boy," he said,
"it would be a sad day to us all if aught has happened amiss to him, and
his parents too off in foreign parts. How cut up he was about his bit
ship yesterday, but it matters little if he is safe to-day. I mind now
he told me just afore we parted yesterday, that he thought it was quite
possible our little ship might have driven ashore here. But I hope he
hasn't been rash in trying to climb where it's dangerous even for an
active boy like him."

"He told me last night," I said, "that he meant to look all along the
shore as far as this. Papa said we were to come here just in case--"

We were getting close into shore now, and Ralph, standing up in front of
me, held his oar to push us off from the rocks until we reached our
usual place for landing. George sat facing me, so that Ralph was the
only one who was able to see well ahead at the moment. There was
something in his manner which startled me, as he bent down all at once
and simply said, "Grandfather!" George turned round in a moment, and his
short ejaculation and smothered "Oh!" confirmed me in a terrible fear
they had made some discovery, and almost at the same instant, leaning
forward, I could see my cousin lying prostrate on the beach just by the
White Rock, at the bottom of a steep part of the cliff, and scarcely a
foot from the water's edge.

I felt my knees shaking, as I tried to rise and could not; tried to
speak, and the words died on my lips; then, for a moment, buried my face
in my hands, and gasped out presently, "He's dead." I thought for a
moment that I should die too, the sense of utter, hopeless